Merry Christmas Mudblood
by LittleMissLoony
Summary: Just before the Christmas holidays, Hermione is trying to find some peace and quiet, not feeling very festive at all, when a certain Draco Malfoy turns up.


It was a freezing cold afternoon but that did not hold me back. Everywhere I went around the castle, people were shouting and messing around in the corridors. A Prefect should not, should never, have to do so much work so close to Christmas. Harry, brilliant though he was, was bonkers to still be playing Quidditch in such weather.

The library was closed. There was nowhere peaceful or quiet at a time like this. Trees were being decorated, and garlands and wreaths hung from the walls and else was going completely over the top with festive cheer that I didn't care if I was being a Scrooge at that moment. So that was why I found myself outside, in the freezing weather, tiny icy droplets starting to fall from the clouds. Some Christmas this was going to turn out to be. Ron and Lavender were always off together, stuck like paper and glue, like cracker and cheese. Urgh, seeing them everywhere I went was frustrating to say the least. What was he playing at? He could do so much better than her. Not that I liked him in that way... not really.

I returned to looking through my book - a scrapbook of memories I had been making over the years - until I heard an annoying voice behind me.

"Merry Christmas, Mudblood."

I continued to scan the pages of my book, ignoring Malfoy's odd insult. There's a photograph of Harry's first Quidditch match, and doodles I must have drawn ages ago, of Ron and Harry zooming around on broomsticks throughout the pages. My mind started to wander. What was Malfoy doing outside, when everyone else was still in the Great Hall or their dormitories? I didn't even bother turning around, and kept my eyes on the page. If there was anyone I definitely did not want to meet, it was Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy, just piss off." I spat, and hunched over my book even more.

"Not very festive today, are you?" He pointed out, and I noticed him kicking off snow from his shoes out of the corner of my eye, deliberately trying to soak my own shoes in cold icy mush. I looked up to my left, giving him an equally sarcastic smirk as the one he was giving me.

"I'm reading, so if you don't mind, I would like to get back to it."

For a moment he was silent, and I tried to ignore the odd feeling that Malfoy was still watching me. I tucked a loose chestnut curl back behind me ear, and began to feel the need to move away from the idiot who was still standing right there, probably coming up with some sort of cunning plan to annoy me further. His feet took one more step towards me and I daren't flinch.

"But I do mind." I heard him whisper in my ear, leaning closer.

He grabbed the book from my fingers and threw it into the air, where it floated, levitating, several feet above our heads. I stood up, furiously, and attempted to grab his arm away to break the charm. He kept on smirking, his cold eyes hard with that mischievious glint, and I knew he would not give up without a fight. That gave me an idea.

"Malfoy, give it back!"

"Or what?"

I pointed my wand at the snow scattering the ground until it had formed a perfectly shaped snowball. I hit him square in the face; he looked outraged. Stepping back slowly, I waited for his reaction, as he still kept the book hovering too high for me to reach. He wiped the flecks of frosty snow from his cheeks, narrowing his eyes.

"You'll regret that, Granger." He threatened, and I was caught in the moment of choosing whether to laugh at him or prepare to run. I chose the former... at first.

"No, it was pretty satisfying actually." I didn't bother hiding a grin, and crossed my arms confidently. "Now, give it back."

He scowled and flourished his wand at the ground, where a pile of snowballs suddenly formed. Oh, I really was asking for it. He flashed me a malevolent smile, one lone snowball hovering by his side, pausing. I guess he was giving me a headstart. How thoughtful of him - _ha!_Reaching the top of the slope that meandered by the lake, I glanced back down in time for a snowball to fly past me, just above my head.

"No wonder you're just a Seeker, you have terrible aim!" I threw back, slipping and sliding along the icy bank, trying to regain balance.

That taunt was met with a forceful thwack of snow to my leg. It was an onslaught. I scrambled for more soft white snow, packing it tightly in my gloved hands. I looked down, and was surprised that Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. Where did he disappear off to?

I squealed as something threw me to the ground in an instant, and I met the ground with a face full of snow. The cold icy sensation made me shiver, before I turned around to see who was holding me. I scowled at the arrogant git pinning me down.

"Draco Malfoy! Get off me!" I shouted, and he cocked his head to one side, a look of intrigue on his face as though he was contemplating what he would do next. I noticed every shard of ice on his cheek, his silver-grey eyes boring into mine. "Malfoy..."

Malfoy's gaze wandered to my mouth, as did my own, our breaths leaving us in pants, the air fogging up between us. His body leaned against mine, pressing me against the snow. Warmth spread slowly across my cheeks as his lips touched mine. I could see the thawing ice fall from his hair and tickle my forehead before I closed my eyes.

_What am I doing? What is HE doing?_

A cold hand pressed against my cheek; I shivered, but I daren't move away. I was kissing Draco Malfoy, supreme git of Slytherin. This was going against everything logical. _He's a Pureblood who should have hated everything I stood for!_ I ignored the nagging voice in my head questioning all this, no matter how much rationality it was giving.

His other hand trailed slowly down my arm until he slid my glove deftly off of my fingers. I struggled for control, my kisses fighting against his. He took this as a competition and bit my bottom lip, teasing me. His hand grasped mine, and I kissed him back with just as much confusion of my feelings. In an instant, he pulled back.

"Merry Christmas, Mudblood." He pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes conveying a strange anxious look in them, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just done, but didn't want to hold back the need to kiss me again.

"Merry Christmas, ferret." I mumbled back, thinking I had gone absolutely barking mad as I couldn't disguise the smile spreading across my face.

He pushed himself away from me; his face was a mask, revealing no hint of worry or shock besides his familiar smirk. I stood up shakily, dusting myself off, and when I turned around he had fled.

Only now did I let myself think. I glanced in every direction, checking that he was not going to bombard me like that again. Retracing my steps, I tried to find my book. It had vanished, just like he had. Why was I feeling so disappointed? 

* * *

On Christmas Day, at my parents' house, I had already opened all but one present. It was book-shaped, like many others I had received, but there was a new page in the back, written in emerald green ink. I knew that writing. Sitting next to him in Potions taught me that much.

_Merry Christmas Mudblood. I thought you might need help getting out of your unfestive mood._

DM

Beneath that was a sketch, a funny one, a cute one. I couldn't believe I hadn't added it in the book myself. In our third year, near the stone circle, I remembered it clearly in my mind. Malfoy. I had my wand aimed at his throat. I had been furious by what he had said about Buckbeak. But in the drawing, I don't punch him. He holds his hands up, and I hug him.

Then I realised that was the first day I'd ever felt anything for Draco Malfoy. He knew it. When I was looking into his eyes, supposedly enraged - then and every time since - it wasn't like that. I hadn't been angry. I was confused, stubborn and hopelessly trying to deter myself from thinking of Malfoy in any other way than a rival, an enemy. It was the first time I realised Malfoy had any sort of moral compass, the begging in his gaze I still remembered well.

He wished life had gone another way. That things hadn't gotten so complicated to turn ourselves to hate one another. He didn't want that, and nor did I.

But what was this? He was proposing a friendship, a truce - that much I was able to deduce. Nothing had made me so perplexed in my life and yet a silly little kiss had addled my brains.

_Hermione Granger, what have you let yourself in for?_


End file.
